


On The Nature Of Good Angles

by ineffablefool



Series: INNWverse [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: (he is fat and pretty and also has infinite value regardless of body size), (not mentioned but he is), Alternate Universe - Human, Asexual Relationship, Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Internalized Fatphobia, Kissing, M/M, No Sex, No Smut, Self-Esteem Issues, Trans Crowley (Good Omens), a few f bombs because Crowley (thanks for the T rating Crowley), and writing an almost 3k fanfic as a reaction, because non-sexualized unconditional support of fat people is My Jam, dang forgot that tag, fat positivity, me having a lot of opinions about someone else's Tumblr post
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27247273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineffablefool/pseuds/ineffablefool
Summary: “I ruined every photograph I was in.”The words landed like a punch.  Crowley couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.  He held Aziraphale tightly, and Aziraphale didn’t try to get away or move to hold him too but only sat there.  Pulled in on himself.  Like he wasn’t willing to ask for the space for all of himself, or like he just didn’t expect to get it even if he did ask.(Human AU.  Aziraphale is having a low self-esteem day, but Crowley will do what he can. Kisses Bingo fill: "ring kiss")
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: INNWverse [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1644742
Comments: 57
Kudos: 204
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens, Kisses Bingo





	On The Nature Of Good Angles

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to the Soft Zone(TM)! We are mixing a bit of angst in with the Soft, I'm afraid, but I think it's still mostly Soft. (It's definitely still asexual and fat-positive. These are the rules of the Soft Zone.)
> 
> A post crossed my Tumblr dash containing a sentiment I really didn't expect to see, especially from this particular person. I had [reactions](https://ineffablefool.tumblr.com/post/632605055305007104/im-gonna-get-less-vague-here-tw-for-fatphobia). Then I spent a week and almost three thousand words really hammering my point home. The resulting fic takes place in the same universe as my accidental novel of a human AU, [If Not Now, When](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20936816), and happens... mmm, sometime within the last chapter, timeline-wise, since the last chapter has vignettes spanning both before and after a particular event. As such, **this could be considered a spoiler.** If you haven't read INNW but would still like to read this story, though, that's fine! Just keep in mind, Crowley is trans, Aziraphale is fat, and they love each other very much.
> 
>  **There is some internalized fatphobia here** , and some use of the word "fat" that is not positive (but the narrative does not support this non-positive use). ilu my fat people and I promise you are beautiful and worthy and infinitely, immeasurably valuable exactly as you are, today, in the real world. Also however you will be in the future in the real world. There is no weight limit on this.
> 
> This is also a prompt fill for the [Kisses Bingo game](https://bingokisses.tumblr.com/) currently going on on Tumblr. It checks off the square [ring kiss](https://bingokisses.tumblr.com/post/632177090381463552/thirteenth-call).
> 
> I'm writing for the TV characterization, but I've decided that my written Aziraphale is visibly fat. I will link [this lovely fanart](https://ineffablefool.tumblr.com/post/618767474210570240/oh-my-god-oh-my-god-theyre-adorable-and-i) for an idea of what to visualize, plus this was basically the image I had in mind when I was describing a photograph at one point during the fic. Except flip it so Crowley's on the viewer's right.
> 
> Final note: Decemberists fans might know that there's a song title which would have been _perfect_ to title this fic with. Alas! [Someone beat me to it.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19259458)

Usually Crowley was the one to dig out the photo album, curling up on the sofa and paging through and getting misty-eyed. They hadn’t bothered much with staged shots at the wedding, but there’d been a ton of candid ones. Liz hugging Crowley, and Aziraphale looking shocked at something Helen from Dublin had said, and the bookshop kids laughing together.

And pictures of the two of them, of course. Lots and lots of those.

Today it was Aziraphale, though. When Crowley finished up with the plants for the day, he wandered back through the sitting room, realized Aziraphale was on the sofa with the album in his hands, and redirected himself to flop down alongside.

Sweet blue eyes turned up to his. “Hello, husband.”

“H-hey. Also-husband.” Crowley cupped a hand around Aziraphale’s pretty chins, catching those soft pink lips with his own, heart tripping over itself when Aziraphale made a little noise of very pleasant surprise. “Mind if I join you?”

Aziraphale kissed him again, and then a third time. Brief but nearly gentle enough to melt Crowley’s bones to goo. “You already have, so I suppose I’ve no choice.”

“Very put upon, you are.” Crowley dropped his head onto one gloriously cushioned shoulder, tucking his hand around Aziraphale’s arm. “Regretting it? Shackling yourself to me?”

“You wretch,” Aziraphale said tenderly. “You know these last few months have been the happiest of my life.”

As if Crowley could be expected to respond coherently to _that_ without getting emotional again. He distracted himself with the next page in the album. “‘S my favorite picture from the wedding, y’know. Might have it framed. Get it tattooed. Sleep with it under my pillow.”

That should have gotten him a smile, a chuckle. Instead, Aziraphale’s mouth went flat, twinkle in his eye going dull. “It’s very nice,” he said. Didn’t sound like he really meant it. “You look terribly handsome, of course.” That sounded more sincere. “But I rather prefer... where was it...”

His dimpled hands riffled through the album, stopping about halfway through. “Ah, yes. Here it is.”

Crowley snuggled up closer to Aziraphale, letting his other hand wander through Aziraphale’s curls. He wouldn’t call it the best picture. A selfie, taken by Crowley, his other arm tight around his beautiful just-married husband. The angle was sort of weird with the phone held up like that. You could see how huge both their smiles were, could see that Crowley had been just about to start crying for about the eighth time that day. But Aziraphale was half-hidden behind him.

“Really?” Crowley frowned at the album. “This isn’t even one of the professional ones. Can hardly even see you.”

There was a little beat of silence.

“It’s just that.” Aziraphale shrank in on himself a bit. “Well. You’re so elegant, darling, you look marvelous in every photograph, but, ah. I’m much more...”

 _Soft_ , Crowley’s brain supplied, _snuggly, beautiful_.

“...bulky.”

Said like it wasn’t a statement of fact but a shameful admission. “ _Aziraphale_.”

“Well, I am.” Aziraphale looked down at the photo, still huddled small. “This is the photograph where it’s not as obvious. It’s — it’s a good angle, don’t you think? Why, I look at least fifty pounds thinner!”

There was something bright but fragile in his voice, and in the little smile he gave Crowley. His eyes still wouldn’t meet Crowley’s for more than a second, though. And the look in them when they did was almost apologetic. Like Aziraphale was sorry for being himself. For being exactly as he was, round and soft and adorable and real.

“It’s just something I’ve been thinking about, lately.” Aziraphale smoothed his hand over the page. “It was such a lovely day, wasn’t it? Everything was perfect.”

Crowley squeezed his arm. “It was, Aziraphale —”

“Except for the f-fat groom.”

Aziraphale actually shuddered when he said it, pressing a hand to his mouth like he could stop the words, hold them in. His pretty face crumpled, eyes shut tightly, and he turned away but Crowley could still see what looked like tears gathering in his lashes, and then his shoulders _shook_ —

Didn’t even take thought to throw his arms around Aziraphale, around his poor shaking shoulders, burying one hand in his hair and pressing close. Was instinct. “Angel,” Crowley whispered against his neck, “angel, _no_. You were perfect. You _were_.”

“I ruined every photograph I was in.”

The words landed like a punch. Crowley couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t hear anything except Aziraphale’s quiet certainty. He grabbed him even tighter — instinct again — and Aziraphale didn’t try to get away or move to hold him too but only sat there. Pulled in on himself. Like he wasn’t willing to ask for the space for all of himself, or like he just didn’t expect to get it even if he did ask.

_Why can’t you see what I see? I love you so much, there’s not even room for it in me — let me share it with you, it could fill your heart, too, and then you’d finally realize how gorgeous you are —_

Didn’t work that way, of course. If it was possible to love someone all better, Crowley would’ve already done it by about their second week of dating.

Instead, he breathed deep, filling his lungs with the dry floral scent of Aziraphale’s cologne, with the vague soapy smell of his shampoo. With the warmth of his skin under all of that. “I didn’t — didn’t see a single ruined photo, angel. Except. Well. All the ones Liz took with her finger over the lens.”

Aziraphale didn’t so much as chuckle, but at least he sounded less like every word was made of stone. “The poor woman. At least she was cheerful about it.”

“There’s not one ruined picture in this whole album. Okay?” Crowley stroked carefully through the white-gold fluff of Aziraphale’s hair. “Love every single one of them. All of them. Including the ones of you.”

Aziraphale scoffed.

“ _Especially_ the ones of you.” He kept one hand in Aziraphale’s hair, petting the little curls, and the hairs which were trimmed too short to curl. “You make me happy. You and everything that reminds me of you, including the photos.”

He put his other hand over Aziraphale’s on the page. “I love this photo cause it’s us. And, and anyone looking at it could tell we’re in love, right? Look how close I’m holding you.”

He could see what Aziraphale meant about the angle in this one. From above, the soft roll of double chin was almost invisible. The roundness of Aziraphale’s cheeks seemed flattened, too, and the curve of his belly. The way he was half blocked by Crowley, you couldn’t even tell where he ended. It would be easy to imagine he was smaller. Barely more than chubby.

“Turn back to the other one?”

He thought at first Aziraphale wouldn’t answer. Eventually, though, the hand beneath his moved. Paged to the other photo, the one Crowley wanted tattooed to the inside of his eyeballs, before coming to rest.

Crowley tucked his fingers between Aziraphale’s, feeling all that adorable padding beneath his own palm. “See, look. ‘S a good picture. It’s — it’s _us_ , that’s all, me and you. Already beautiful just because of that.”

“You’re certainly a vision.” Aziraphale tipped his head sideways, resting it against Crowley’s arm on his shoulder. “That smile of yours is simply radiant.”

“And who’m I smiling at?”

“Well, ah.” Aziraphale shifted a little. “Me, I suppose.”

Crowley nodded. Kissed the side of Aziraphale’s head. “Was so happy that day, angel. _So_ fucking happy. Because you _make_ me happy. Think you were pretty happy too.”

“It was absolute bliss,” Aziraphale murmured. “I could see how much you love me every time you looked at me.” Then, ducking his head like he wanted to hide the faint blush on his cheeks, “I can always see it, but — everyone else could, too.”

His plump hand turned under Crowley’s, palm up to return Crowley’s hold.

“Okay,” Crowley said. “That’s me then. So happy I could die, just because of you. But look at you.”

Aziraphale’s mouth twitched down. “I’d really rather not.”

“You’re _glowing_ , Aziraphale.” Crowley nuzzled against his hair. “You say my smile’s radiant? Yours is a _supernova_. You’re — you’re one of those pulsar stars that flare so bright, they kill everything for a thousand light-years.”

“Am I,” Aziraphale said, with the smallest edge of exasperated humor to his voice.

“Please, just, just look at it for a minute. Look at us.” Crowley squeezed his hand, then again just in case the first hadn’t taken. “D’you see what I love about it?”

He could feel Aziraphale tense up against him as they studied the photo together. It was another candid shot, after they’d left the bandstand. They were stood not quite facing each other, but with Aziraphale’s face tilted up so he could gaze into Crowley’s eyes. Crowley was gazing right back. They were holding each other, Crowley’s arms around Aziraphale’s waist and Aziraphale’s hand at Crowley’s elbow, and Crowley’s wedding ring gleamed on his finger; and they were both smiling so tenderly that, here on the sofa, Crowley felt his eyes tearing up again — there’d been nothing else in the world for him in that instant besides Aziraphale, and he could tell Aziraphale had felt the same way, that all he could see was Crowley, that all that existed was the two of them, was their love —

Aziraphale was in profile, in front of Crowley. The angle did absolutely nothing to make him look thinner.

On the sofa, the real Aziraphale turned his head aside, leaning it on Crowley’s arm again. “It’s like a bad joke, darling, we’re so terribly mismatched —”

“Match perfectly. See, this guy...” Crowley let go of Aziraphale’s hand to tap his own face in the photo. “So fucking in love it’s a wonder his, gh, his heart doesn’t explode.”

Aziraphale sighed, relaxing into him the slightest bit. “I suppose.”

Tapping the image of Aziraphale’s face, now. “And this guy?”

Silence. Aziraphale stared at the album like someone had told him it was a first edition.

“The same,” he said, and the last of his tension faded. “Oh, I — I do look happy, don’t I. I was happy. I just wish I didn’t look so...”

He trailed a finger down his own profile, pert-nosed face and soft chest and round, spreading belly. “But I am. No matter the angle, I’m still...”

The word didn’t come, but Crowley knew.

He touched Aziraphale’s hand. “You’re _you_. Married you, didn’t I? Chose you.” The next words caught in his throat for a second when Aziraphale slotted their fingers together again. “Y... you’re. Just. If the picture looks like you, then that — that makes it good. Because you’re good.”

Aziraphale lifted their joined hands. “It is an... accurate likeness.” He pressed soft lips to Crowley’s fingers, to the cool metal of his wedding ring. “And I doubt any photograph could ever capture the depths of my love for you, my dearest, sweetest heart, but... this does come close.”

Crowley ran his thumb down Aziraphale’s cheek. “Love all of you, angel. Don’t want to pretend like there’s less of you. Want _you_.”

“I know,” Aziraphale whispered.

He sat up suddenly. Closed the album with a thud and set it aside. The moment his hands were empty, he filled them with Crowley. Arms flung around Crowley’s neck, and that was Crowley’s permission to hold Aziraphale around his beautiful belly, awkwardly twisted toward him on the sofa but not minding a single bit. Turn himself into a pretzel if that was what it took. All that mattered was the holding. The way his fat gorgeous angel husband felt in his arms, warm and yielding and perfect.

After a while, Aziraphale sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said into Crowley’s neck. “I really ought to be past this.”

“Isn’t an ought.” Crowley pulled back just enough to press a kiss against one round cheek. “You go as fast as you go. Backwards, sometimes.” He kissed Aziraphale’s cheek again. “Just how it works.” This kiss was at the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth. “Mentioned it to your therapist yet?”

“No,” Aziraphale admitted, before his lips found Crowley’s for several dizzying seconds. “But I will.”

Crowley leaned their foreheads together. “G-good. That’s. Good.”

He would’ve been content to just cuddle the entire rest of the day, probably, although when Aziraphale picked up the photo album again, he shifted to make room for it. Still snuggled close, but letting the book have Aziraphale’s lap.

One pudgy hand went around his back, tucked just above his hip. The other paged slowly through the album.

Aziraphale remarked on a few images as they went, how lovely everyone looked, how nice a day it’d been. At the photo of Adam and Anathema peering into a teacup together, they both laughed, remembering how the kid had gone around reading everyone’s tea leaves for weeks afterwards.

Crowley thought they’d go quick past the one of Aziraphale, a hand on one of the bandstand posts, gaze soft on something off-camera. It was a gorgeous shot. Sun lit up his hair like white fire. His beautiful mobile face was at total peace. The way his arm was raised, that side of his suit jacket had swung back, and his waistcoat curved out to fill the gap. No mistaking just how round he was. Just how fat.

Aziraphale didn’t rush past it, though. Some of that tension came back, posture stiff for a minute, even for him. Then he let out a long breath.

“I did look smart in this suit,” he said quietly. “For all that you teased me about it being old-fashioned, it... I did look rather smart.”

“You looked amazing. And very old-fashioned.”

The tiniest smile touched Aziraphale’s lips. “Some fashions are timeless.”

Crowley’s chest collapsed in on itself without warning, squeezing his poor besotted heart to pulp. “Ridiculous,” he said. Snuggled closer again, not even caring when the album slipped from Aziraphale’s lap, when it thunked to the ground. “Beautiful ridiculous thing. How’m I supposed to deal with you?”

“By not knocking things everywhere, _goodness_ , Crowley...”

It was worth noting, though, that Aziraphale didn’t pick the album up. No, he put his arms around Crowley instead, keeping the two of them very close together. The sound he made in his throat sounded warm and satisfied.

Crowley was just about to suggest that they both nap right here when a different idea came to him. His mobile was... yeah, on the table, which he could just barely get to by wriggling around enough to generate several huffy remarks. Then it was in his hand, and he returned to where he belonged. Cuddled up with his very own angel.

He held his mobile out, watching himself smile back at them from the screen.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. He was in the camera’s frame too. His belly piled up softly in his lap, maybe even a little exaggerated by the angle and the lens; his double chin was obvious, and the round hills of his cheeks, and the width of his arms, wrapped around Crowley’s chest and waist.

“Won’t take it without your permission,” Crowley told the Aziraphale on his screen. “Never would. But. I mean. This’d be a good picture of you, cause it’d look like you.”

Heavy arms squeezed Crowley tighter. “I’d like to look at it with you someday,” Aziraphale murmured behind him. “I’d like to... to want to look at it. To be happy to see myself like...”

Aziraphale pressed a kiss to the side of Crowley’s head. “Please take it. Someday I’ll want to know we were here.”

Not ‘on the sofa’, but here. Together. Crowley nodded, the pulped remains of his heart stirring painfully in his chest. “Nowhere else I could ever be. Hope you know that.” He blinked a few times. “Right. Ready? Everyone say ‘pretty angel’ —”

“ _Crowley_ ,” Aziraphale laughed, and Crowley took the picture.

It was perfect. Crowley in the front, grinning crookedly, eyes still suspiciously damp-looking. Behind him, cradling him, Aziraphale — all soft round shapes and sweet beaming smile.

Aziraphale studied it a long moment before sighing. “I will speak to my therapist on Friday. And... thank you, darling. For the accurate likeness.”

 _Accurately beautiful_ , Crowley could’ve said. _Accurately heart-stoppingly gorgeous_. Except it wasn’t about Aziraphale being pretty, even if he obviously was. It was about him being enough. Forever and exactly enough.

“Welcome,” he said instead, letting his mobile slip to the floor. He leaned back into the familiar comfort of Aziraphale’s body. “You’re welcome,” he clarified. “Wanna finish looking at the photo album?”

There was a thoughtful hum, then a pause. “I think I’d rather just sit a while,” Aziraphale said, finally. “I needn’t settle for the memories when I have you right here.”

Whatever of Crowley’s heart had survived the last few minutes gave up with an embarrassing squeaking noise.

Aziraphale’s hold on him shifted, until he was lying across the angel’s belly, head propped up in the crook of arm and shoulder. He looked up into the gentle eyes of his dreams, and of his waking life. Maybe his life _was_ the dream.

“Hgn,” he said. “Th. Thanks. For shackling yourself to me.” One of his hands raised on its own to stroke Aziraphale’s cheek. “Husband.”

Aziraphale smiled, tipping his head into Crowley’s palm. “It has been my greatest joy,” he answered. “Husband.”

**Author's Note:**

> Healing is a weird nonlinear thing, and sometimes you think you should really, really be past something, but it turns out, oh, huh. You actually aren't. And that's okay. Not every single day has to be better than the one before it.
> 
> Also, note that both Aziraphale and Crowley have therapists in this AU, and also so does ineffablefool in the real world. If you've got something bothering you that you can't seem to work out on your own, and if you have the access to therapy, please consider giving it a try. Sometimes it takes a third party with an extensive toolkit to help you figure things out. It's the same reason we have electricians and landscapers and whatever you call the people who specialize in garage doors.
> 
> Thank you for reading! If you were thinking of leaving a comment, please know that I am frequently behind on answering, but that I always treasure every single one. I've literally cried a few times reading some of the lovely things people have said, and they really are fuel for my soft little heart -- but never, ever required, so please don't feel pressured. 
> 
> If you want to say hi on Tumblr, I'm [ineffablefool](https://ineffablefool.tumblr.com) there, too.
> 
> I would never actively request art from anyone I wasn't paying, but if you, the human reading this, were to decide it was worth your time to create fanart based on any of my stories, I would be incredibly honored ([and would love to enshrine it forever on my Tumblr](https://ineffablefool.tumblr.com/tagged/ineffablefool-gets-fanart-from-lovely-people))! I have only one requirement: please don't draw Aziraphale any thinner than the size I headcanon (I need both my soft cuddly daydreams, and my positive fat representation). Here are some examples of what that sort of minimum body size/shape might look like: ([beautiful fanart created for me by Squeegeelicious](https://ineffablefool.tumblr.com/post/189282541139/squeegeelicious-a-walk-to-the-ritz-for)) ([speremint 1](https://speremint.tumblr.com/post/186342035100/i-did-this-instead-of-my-hw-ya-girl-is-gonna)) ([speremint 2 from her Reversed Omens AU](https://speremint.tumblr.com/post/186574829700/finally-finally-done-making-these-refs-my)) ([dotstronaut](https://dotstronaut.tumblr.com/post/186740069618/no-really-i-dont-think-you-all-understand-how)) Otherwise, the characters can look however you like!
> 
> I hope you're having a fantastic day.


End file.
